


Well Met

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Down Time at the Shatterdome, Jaeger Pilots, M/M, Prank Wars, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a pigeon in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> Tumblr Prompt Fill.

It started with a pigeon in the shower. Everyone knew Raleigh took showers at night, while Yancy took them in the morning - the better to wake up. So really, Trevin only had himself to blame when the shriek echoed through the locker room. He’d been expecting one, of course. But, not for another twenty minutes. Several people went running, including Trevin. All trailing a speeding Raleigh, who was going so fast, he ended up skidding the rest of the way and crashing bodily into his brother. Thankfully, he was fully clothed in his RCU so his boots managed to keep traction and the Beckets did not end up in a wet, potentially bloody heap on the shower floor. 

By the time everyone else had caught up, Yancy was clinging to Raleigh, eyes wide and putting wrinkles in a steadily soaking uniform. Herc reached across them and turned the water off, while Scott began to search the floor with sharp eyes. 

“What the hell, Yance?!” Raleigh gasped. “You scared the fuck out of me!!” 

Yancy raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up on end. “I just turned on the water and it came right at me!” 

“How big was it?” Scott asked, methodically covering ground. 

“What?!” Yancy replied, a little breathless. 

“The spider,” Scott replied. 

Yancy shook his head, catching Raleigh in the eye with a particularly good drop as it flew free of him. “Wasn’t a spider.”

Both Hansens looked up at him. 

“Then what was it?” Herc asked. 

Trevin wanted to drop a hand over his eyes, but he knew better than to draw attention to himself, as a tell tale cooing echoed from an adjacent stall. 

Raleigh cracked a grin, before making a valiant attempt at trying not to laugh outright. 

Scott disappeared behind a tile wall and came back holding the wet pigeon. He held it up and everybody - Yancy included - began to laugh. 

 

~*~

“A pigeon. Really?” 

Trevin was proud of his brother for not even glancing in his direction. 

“Fuck if I know how it got in there,” Yancy said around a spoonful of eggs. The shock had gotten his adrenaline rushing and he was happily eating breakfast and recounting the entire affair to the table - something which rarely happened outside of a Kaiju attack. 

Bruce hummed agreeably. 

“Not the worst thing that could have found you in the shower,” Scott pointed out. 

Yancy picked up his mug and they tapped them together before drinking.

~*~

Of course, with Bruce on the offensive, Trevin had to work twice as hard to catch him unaware.

~*~

The next morning, he was late to breakfast because his asshole brother had tied all his bootlaces together and hung them from Romeo’s tracheal fin. The table was riotous for the second morning in a row. He grabbed some breakfast, then almost dropped his tray at the sight of Scott Hansen. Every last inch of him dyed blue. 

Herc was laughing so hard, it looked like he was choking, flagging a hand over his head. 

Scott rolled his eyes. “Herc thinks this is the first serious case of blue balls I’ve had in a good long while,” he said. 

It was clearly what Herc had been trying to scrape together enough composure to articulate, because the moment the words left Scott’s mouth, Herc made a strangled wheezing sound and collapsed into his brother’s back. 

Scott grinned wide before his brother’s amusement permeated completely and he began to laugh himself with nearly as much abandon. His teeth blindingly white in his face. 

“Oh hey, Trev,” Bruce said, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “You’ll never guess what happened to Scott this morning.” 

“Regulation soap, my blue ass!” Scott interrupted. 

Herc nearly fell out of his chair. Only his arms about Scott and Scott’s grip on the table kept the Hansens from falling over onto the mess floor.

~*~

On the third morning, after Trevin had had to contort himself out of carefully wound and bound bed sheets, he arrived at breakfast to find Vic pounding on Gunnar’s back, laughing so hard there was no telling if he was managing any sort of sufficient rescue mission. Scott - who was still blue - was wiping tears from his eyes, and only upright because he was leaning into Herc, who was covered in a fine spray, as he was seated directly across from Gunnar. The Beckets - who clearly hadn’t managed any sort of balance - were on the floor, curled up on their sides and laughing into one another’s faces like a pair of children. 

Trevin felt dread swirl in his belly as he approached the table.

“Is no cure for you,” Aleksis said, picking up Gunnar’s glass and swallowing the entire thing in one smooth go. “Feh! Is like milk!” 

“You-have-no-” Vic rasped between hitching laughs. But whatever he was going to say evaporated as Gunnar stole his brother’s coffee - a drink he seriously despised - and gulped it down. Vic instantly dissolving into a fit of hysterical laughter.

~*~

A week later Bruce had managed to maintain his stealthy diversions. No pilot was safe. And when the last one had caught the Marshall instead, Trevin knew he had to admit defeat. 

“Truce!” he declared upon entering their room. 

Bruce looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not admitting defeat,” he was quick to specify. “I’d just rather not end up on latrine duty because you’re a wily bastard who refuses to take his just rewards like a man!” 

“Me?” Bruce replied. “You’re the one who can’t plan worth a shit.” 

Trevin’s mouth opened and worked before he shut it with a snap. “I put a LOT of work into the last week and a half, I’ll have you know!!”

“And you’re the worst fucking liar I have ever met.” Bruce set his book aside and sat up. “How long have we known each other? You have the same damn tells!! I can read you like a book, Trev. A book I’ve written. Because I _know_ you. I know how your mind works - I did even before we started drifting - and I know how you operate.” 

Trevin crossed his arms. “You could at least try _not_ to cheat! You used to give me a chance at least!!” 

Bruce got up and crossed over to him. “Have I been frustrating you, Trev?” he asked, draping both arms around him. “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, you got me the first time, and almost twice after that.” 

Trevin quirked a brow. “Which two?” 

“The soap and the uniform.” 

“I _still_ don’t know how you managed to get out of that one!!”

Bruce just grinned at him. “Come on, Trev. Let me make it up to you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I know just the thing.”

“Oh do you?”

“Mmhmm…”

~*~

They’d taken four showers and brushed their teeth half a dozen times. Trevin’s tongue was still numb from over sensitivity and Bruce claimed the _air_ tasted funny. He must have dropped half a bottle of powder into his shorts and Bruce couldn’t avoid the over compensation in his movements, which made him look bow legged. 

They finally gave up and went to breakfast. They’d just crossed into the mess when the table full of pilots began wolf whistling and clapping, shouting things at them Trevin could only half make out. But he got the jist of it at about the same time as Bruce, the realization bouncing around between their ghost drift, lit up like the parts of their bodies that wouldn’t STOP sending signals to their brains. 

“OH YOU ASSHOLES!!!”


End file.
